


Cooling Station

by LumaBoop



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Dirty Talk, Glasses, Librarian kink, Library, M/M, Masturbation, Public Sex, Voice Kink, Vouyerism, group masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 10:50:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LumaBoop/pseuds/LumaBoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desmond is hot. Libraries are cold. Simple solution. Unfortunately for him, depending on how he looks at it, Librarians are hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cooling Station

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to those who enjoy a flirtatious and slutty Shaun and a toppy Desmond.

<\----------------------------->  
  
The five block walk to his friend’s place was no longer a pleasant five block stroll.

  
Fucking heat wave.  
  
It’d been the bane of Desmond’s existence for the past two weeks. Nothing but 100+ degree weather in the day and 90 degree weather at night. Rain? What was rain? Hell, what was  _water_  at this point? The city’s dark pavement cooked feet if you hand sandals on, while the sky scrapers blocked and redirected the natural cooling winds away. The area had become one giant oven, and Desmond was starting to wonder why he didn’t just driv—  
  
“Shit!” That’s right; the heat wave had blown out his motorcycle engine.  
  
Desmond probably wouldn’t have said ‘yes’ to coming over to Michael’s place (instead of vice versa) if it wasn’t for the allure of working air conditioning and a promise to Desmond that he’d acquired some quality porn. ‘Jacking off is good for ignoring heat’, he’d said. Whether it was from heat exhaustion or some other form of brain-numbing delirium, Desmond was inclined to believe him and his crotch warmed in anticipation of what delectable porn awaited in at Michael’s air conditioned condo.  
  
However, three blocks going out, and Desmond was already unbelievably miserable, hot and bothered in completely unsexy ways.  
  
Sweating bullets, Desmond leaned against a marble stoned building with a frustrated groan; not even the smooth polished surface provided relief. The sound of giggling children didn’t help… wait what? Opening his eyes, Desmond watched as a batch of children rushed inside the marble building, giggling, cheering, and stampeding to get the fuck inside. Tilting his head up, Desmond spotted a bronze plaque near where he stood, reading ‘Metro Library’.  
  
Desmond never truly paid attention to libraries. They were just buildings that were too fancy on the outside for the boring shit that usually was inside. He’d past by them on his regular routine to and from work (usually when the damn things were closed), or swiftly blew past them on his motorcycle, never giving them a second thought…  
  
“A-aah yeah.” He shivered in delight at the VERY brief breeze that whistled past him from where the sliding doors had allowed the children in. Desmond followed the cold and entered the library… and swore he’d come in his pants. The overwhelming amount of sheer, dry, sac-frosting, 65 degree F chill near caused his body to slip into shock.  
  
His body shook violently, as if knocking off a sheen of ice that’d covered his skin, goosebumps rising all over. Alright, the library was actually good for something! Desmond shifted over to the benches, the children from before gathered around the reception area… where a very annoyed redhead seemed to wrinkle his nose at the younglings. Desmond couldn’t blame him, or the swiftness to which he pointed to the kiddy area. The children ran ahead of the supposed teacher, who called out to the children to stop running.  
  
Desmond snickered at the redhead who rolled his eyes at the teacher’s pathetic attempts to tame her students and went back to reading whatever it was he was reading back there.   
  
With his attention dropping from the snooty man, Desmond leaned back on his arms, head tilted back to simply let this divine chill of man-made air flow over him. Oh, shit, it was great! He felt as if he could breathe again. The damn heat had been so draining… perhaps if Desmond could rest his eyes for just a view mome—  
  
“If you’re not going to use the library, you’ll have to leave.”  
  
What the— oh it was just that snobby receptionist. Desmond wouldn’t have even guessed that it’d been the ginger if it wasn’t for the voice recognition from before. The man hadn’t lifted his head from whatever reading material he had in his lap, eyes leering at him over his glasses.  
  
“Free country.” Desmond sneered. He damn well wasn’t moving from this comfortable bench until he felt like it.  
  
“Read the sign, libertarian,” was the receptionist’s rebuttal, nudging his head over to the sliding door entrance. Desmond rolled his eyes, intending to ignore the unhanded command, but his eyes floated over to entrance and spied another plaque that clearly read ‘No Loitering’. Sucking his teeth, he slowly lifted from his wonderfully comfortable spot on the bench to shuffle deeper into the large elaborate library, but not without sending an annoyed snort over to the receptionist, who went back to his readings.  
  
Fucking prick. He’d be kinda cute with that accent if he wasn’t an asshole… the fucker using words he didn’t know the meaning to in insults. What the hell was a  _libertarian_ anyway? Whatever, it was bound to be colder deeper in the library anyway. The area around the receptionist was starting to stagnate with his attitude, and the farther back Desmond went, the more the enveloping air conditioning reminded him of why he came into this stupid building in the first place.  
  
“Now… what’s the least favorite subject to read on?”  
  
That area HAD to be literally abandoned and a great place for Desmond to simply sit and relax until he could will himself to suffer through the skin-pealing heat. Heading upstairs while pondering this query, Desmond snapped his fingers with glee.  
  
“Politics.”  
  
Weaving through the narrow walks between book shelves, Desmond scanned the spines of the books for titles, not bothering with the idea of simply going onto a computer and looking up a call number by subject, and blah blah blah. He just wanted to plop down somewhere and loiter privately without being harassed by an irritable librarian… or a certain receptionist who probably doubled as a librarian.  
  
Argh, just thinking of that man caused Desmond’s temper to swell. People like him always aggravated him, thinking they’re above everyone else just because they think they know it all. Drove him to drink --a drink sounded pretty good right about now, but the café was downstairs… where the fucking receptionist was! Well, no beverage then…  
  
“Alright… here’s politics.”  
  
Turning a sharp corner, Desmond spotted the beginning of the political subject books… and nothing else. And it took him a while to realize just how deserted the area was.   
  
He’d stumbled into a more-than-unsettling part of the library. You know--the area of the library that’s devoid of whispers, mp3 headphone blasts, keyboard clicking, or  _breathing_? Yeah, that area, and normally, Desmond would’ve turned around and gave a big mental ‘fuck this’ to the less-than-inviting atmosphere, but that’s kinda what he was going for. It was silent, yes, but it was abandoned. He’d be the only creature within hearing distance and that was a comfort Desmond had been seeking.  
  
“Great, a lounge area.” He thought out loud, plopping down happily on the plush, hardly touched chair. He wiggled a bit on the cushions and got comfortable, crossing his ankles on the wooden table after promptly removing his sandals. Oh, was that a breeze? Tilting his head back, Desmond groaned in bliss in discovering an air conditioning outlet stationed right above his head blowing air upon him. “This is nice~”  
  
Then why was he still uncomfortably warm? It wasn’t bodily heat -Desmond had cooled off significantly- but it was there, concentrated in his chest and torso and thighs. Looking about sneakily first, Desmond pulled the front of his shirt over his head, letting it hook behind his neck. His lean muscles clenched happily under the stream of freezing air, but that wasn’t enough either to quench this unknown fire on him. What the hell wa—  
  
“A-aaa-nnnn!” Desmond slapped a hand over his mouth to try and silence himself a bit too late; the raunchy moan already happened. Thank god no one was around, but what had caused such an outburst? Peeking down to his crotch, Desmond finally remembered the secondary reason why he was even out of his house… his cock. Michael's porn, but the heat had snatched that particular stiffy away from him a while ago, so why was he aroused now? Besides that cute, but now snooty, receptionist, Desmond had no reason to—  
  
\--well, there was that sexy blonde with the short shorts and that drool-worthy bulge he'd passed on the way here. And that bronzed foreigner with lips so plush they might as well had been made for his dick. Damn, and that teacher was hot, too-- the way that skirt wrapped around her ass.  
  
“Ugh… fuck yeah.” He slurred huskily, hands unzipping his jeans to let the unrelenting chill bite and gnaw at his naked crotch. Images cycled through Desmond’s head of the people he’d passed by on his way to his friend’s house. Vivid recollections ranging from the sun kissed sweetheart in the bikini on her way to the beach, to the shirtless meat-head with jeans so low on the hips that… oh god, yes.  
  
“D-daaaamn it…”  
  
If there was ONE thing that Desmond liked about the blasted heat waves in the cities, it was how little people wore during them…  
  
Shamelessly, coupled with the naivety that no one would be coming around, Desmond gave a strong squeeze to his crotch. He choked on his breath, the sting of his sweaty hot palms as the chill of the air around him snatching reason from his mind and replacing it with pleasure.  
  
Oh yeah-- he was about to do this.  
  
The other hand crawled up his chest, the rough pads of his fingertips caressing one of his nipples. The pouring chill clasped around his melting flesh, the tingling freeze making his toes curl. He tipped back in head, craning back over the chair, while the pads of his feet started to knead at the table. Despite the traditional method of masturbation satisfying Desmond to full stand, the warmth of his palm was starting to hurt… and the cold was only getting colder. So cold, in fact, it was more invigorating than his hand.  
  
He stopped stroking and opted for the cold itself.

  
“Manthatfeelsgood.” Desmond grumbled, his hips rolling upwards towards the air conditioning vent above, pointing his cock skyward as if fucking the chill itself. With his free hand latched onto the arm rest, his hips continued to grind into nothing… nothing but the merciless cold that licked, squeezed, and devoured his cock.  
  
“This  _isn’t_ proper use of the public library.”  
  
FUCK, who was that?! His hips stopping in mid grind, Desmond dared to open his eyes. Tilting his head over the back of the chair, he spied the upside-down version of the receptionist. But… ironically, Desmond's cock didn't seem to care. No… quite the opposite.  
  
If his upside-down vision was serving him right, the man was wearing a pair of tan slacks that looked like they cradled his ass and a short sleeved shirt that hugged at his chest… were those erect nipples? Probably from the chill of the library. Desmond was further distracted from the fact that he'd just been caught masturbating in a public library by what he was currently at eye level with… god that bulge wasn’t lying.  
  
Finally, after a few seconds of dead silence, Desmond peered up at the irritated face of the receptionist and smirked, too far gone in his pleasures to give two shits if the man was there.  
  
“This is  _my_ proper use for it… now… are you gonna just stare at me and my cock? If so, leave me the fuck alone, or… actually put in some work and help me, like a good librarian.”  
  
Few more seconds of silence passed before receptionist sighed, crossing his arms.  
  
“I don’t have time for this. I have a ten minute break and you’re in my usual spot.”  
  
Wait, had Desmond heard him right?  
  
“Whatever, knock off your rocks, but keep it down while doing so… I don’t want to hear you while I knock off mine.” The man grunted, plopping down in a chair across from Desmond, spreading his legs while swiftly undoing the belt, button, and zipper to his slacks.  
  
“N-nmmm too bloody hot downstairs… n-near the blasted door...” he grumbled, and with a firm grasp of his semi-erect cock, the man’s stick-in-ass mentality melted into that of a fucking sexual deviant. His body settled into the cushioned chair, Desmond had a front row seat to the other’s masturbation. Unconsciously, his hand started to pick up its previous activity, stroking along with the pent-up receptionist.  
  
“Hnnngh th' air feels good.” The ginger groaned, grinding his hips against his hand which palmed at his cock faster than his body could keep up with. God, this was better than the porno Desmond had been promised.  
  
… where was the ginger's free hand going?  
  
“A-aagh!” The ginger’s hips lifted off the chair completely, his free hand having reached past his scrotum, and between his cheeks, slipping cold fingers within himself. The cry echoed throughout the empty section and reverberated back against Desmond’s body. God, fucking receptionist and his cock-jerking accent.  
  
“… n-nnmmm look at you… watching me pleasure myself. Dirty little shit...”  
  
W-was he talking to him? Desmond’s attention snapped from the man’s crotch to his face. Oh, god it was drool worthy; those off centered glasses, the tint of pink under his eyes, the sheen over his parted lips… the sly sparkle in his gaze.  
  
“Aaahh I bet you wanna know what I feels like…”  
  
Demsond's hand picked up pace, panting in tune to the receptionist.  
  
“Look at you... pulling at your cock thinkin at how tight I am…”  
  
Shit, that accent. It was getting hot again. The good kind of hot--- _great_  kind of hot.  
  
“Or… n-nmmm yeeeah," the red head's left hand was moving faster, fucking himself without a care, and with it, his mouth grew dirtier, "you wanna shut me up, don’t you? Uunngh! You wanna shove your cock down my throat, don't ya? You wanna gag me with that fucking monster of a cock you've got... god, I bet it's fucking delectable..."  
  
Damn, to Desmond that sounded like a fucking great idea… but his ass was glued to the chair, mesmerized by the sight of the ginger doing it all by himself. He was close, imagining all the ginger was rambling, and  the blast of the air conditioning doing nothing to cool down this newest heat… this hungry, consuming heat.  
  
The receptionist cried out again, perhaps in thrusting a second finger into himself; the pants were shielding Desmond’s view… but there was a thrill to that.  
  
“A-aahh yes…! God, I want  _that_ inside me… fucking me senseless… making me hotter…”  
  
If Desmond hadn't been sweating, he was now, and if it wasn’t for the cooling system, they’d both be melting, soaking the chairs with their excitement. Desmond slumped deeper into his chair, palming faster than ever, his stomach flexing as his cock pulsed angrily, ready to pop, but it was… god there was something holding him back…  
  
One look back at the ginger receptionist… and that something was removed. The man licked his upper lip, eyes peering over his drooped glasses. He was squeezing his tip fiercely and with a drunkard's groan, he slurred. “… cum inside me…”  
  
That was the shove that Desmond needed –craved- in order for his balls to clench, his back to straighten, and his cock spray cum over his exposed chest and abs. His toes grasped the edge of the table and his free hand clasped around an abused nipple, locked in his ecstasy.  
  
The man across from him chuckled slyly before his own breath hitched, hips thrusting strongly into the air as he came, cum drizzling over his fingers and the sides of his shaft. Purring in delight, he slumped in his seat, massaging and playing with his spent cock while riding in his afterglow.  
  
Man, did that air feel good, flowing over their sweaty, sticky bodies and lulling them slowly from their highs. The silence was a golden one… until Desmond spoke up, half irritating the receptionist.

  
“…. You got a name?”  
  
“Tch… it’s Shaun.”  
  
“Shaun… it’s too cold in this building.”  
  
“… then get the fuck out of the library.”  
  
Desmond scoffed, but amused at the demand coming from a man half aware of his surroundings, slouched in a chair with his cock hanging out. After another minute of regaining his composure, pulling his shirt over his head, and slipping his sandals back on, Desmond was on a straight path out of freezing library and back into the heat of the city.  
  
“Keep cool, sir.” The receptionist on duty chirped behind the desk. Desmond smirked to her, seeing Shaun in her place saying the same thing... with a different inflection.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
After what happened, the city's haze might as well had been a refreshing 70 degrees Fahrenheit to Desmond.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a fan club contest in Y-gallery  
> Written June 29th 2010  
> Improved and Re-posted to AO3


End file.
